1001 Albums Summary

Few albums bottle pure soul like this one from ultimate wife guy Al Green. The vibe is almost unbearably smooth, like red velvet pants. The Muscle Shoals-inspired production is so warm and intimate, you can practically hear the band breathing, with horns and drums sitting side by side in the mix. But it’s Green’s falsetto—so natural it feels effortless—that pulls you deeper with every note. As the night wears on, though, you wonder: is he seducing me or singing me to sleep?

As great and envelope-pushing as it is nasal and occasionally soporific. It rewards repeated listening but also punishes it. Dylan leans into his craft and elevates songwriting both for previous and future generations. The production lacks bottom, but Dylan's vitriol pushes the beat forward. Like the blurred cover portrait, though, you can feel his hard edges softening.

Pure pop confection, with clean lines, like a starched collar that's up.

It's me, not them.

Gorgeous synth washes over ethereal vocal melodies. With singing this gorgeous, who cares if you can't undersand the words?

Dylan rips his heart out on record. Mid-period Dylan's most mature and consistent work.

Classic high school rocker wax. The B-side is patchy but if Van Halen ever produced anything like a masterpiece, this is it. It's all downhill from here.

The problem with boning as an act of political protest is that while it penetrates, it never punctures. A perennial fave in college dormitories, the title track taken alone may seem to go only skin-deep. But it's just the surface of Marvin's landmine excavation of his soul.

Classic album for "Can You Get to That" alone.

Pretty, jangly, poppy, Mersey. I'm not feeling open to this due to the clean production and conventional poppiness. But Michael Head's tenderness comes through the sheen, enough so that I'll revisit this when the hype around the reunion of clear reference point Oasis has died down and I need a good song to get me through something. The three stars are subject to change.

The greatest (and the last great) Kanye album

A dreamy interstellar voyage captained by a bohemian mystic with tasseled sleeves. It’s as hard to unhear the dad rock factor as it is to not be melted by the swaying rhythms and bluesy vocal hooks. Gaelic R&B at its most accessible, maybe.

The rock and roll is passable, but it's the manic vocal hooks that drive this roadster. Slade bore easily though and so do I. Favorite track: the sleazy swamp stomp "I Don't Mind" ("I danced on your face / It seemed the best place / for acting the fool").

Hell yes!!!

Classic album that’s just not in my headspace right now. Making a mental note to revisit.

Too much earburn

Part Nico, part Nick Drake. Has its moments. Is it just me or is the bouquet drooping?

No